The front lawn at Cubbage Road was long a sterile expanse of green grass, mowed in perfect rows. Despite the full bird feeders at the back of the house, no living things frequented the front lawn, not even the humans. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly in the summer.
After just one year of letting the few native grasses grow long and encouraging the asters and vernonia to fight it out (and hopefully win) against the European grasses, there are birds swooping low over the front lawn for berries, flowers and bugs. When I step out the front door, grasshopper scatter at my feet. It’s a different world.